


Paradise

by Im_A_Terrible_Person



Series: Requests :) [24]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Beta Alexis | Quackity, Beta/Omega, Bottom Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Face-Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I'm tired, Insecurity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Oral Sex, Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Sheep Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Alexis | Quackity, but not really, i got a headache, i'll add more later, sorry the ending is so short, yay, yeeeep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_A_Terrible_Person/pseuds/Im_A_Terrible_Person
Summary: Schlatt is an omega, but he hated that, hated himself for being so weak. Quackity's gonna fix that.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Series: Requests :) [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193852
Comments: 15
Kudos: 201





	Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> For bruh <3
> 
> Please tell me if you want me to change anything!
> 
> My head hurts, so I might not get the other fic up until tomorrow, might have to push a few back. But still awesome :D

There was something weird happening. Quackity couldn’t quite place what was wrong, not at first, but there was something wrong. It was like one of those subliminal messages things, where your subconscious picks up on it before you do, so you’re just on edge, unable to comprehend why, what could possibly be wrong. It was frustrating, terrifying, nerves wound so tight that it was hard to focus, that Quackity walked with his back to the wall, scanning rooms like it was some sort of military operation, not just grabbing some print-outs.

He came in on Monday, like usual, and grabbed some coffee and got to work. For a few hours, that was pretty normal, but by the time the sun was setting, when he was packing up and getting ready to leave, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There was just something… off about the office. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was; the office was clean, nobody had broken in. He’d remembered to lock the doors too. Everything was in its place. He left, tried to put it out of his mind, convinced himself he’d just had a bad day.

Tuesday was even worse. It was so quiet, so weirdly silent, that Quackity worried that there had been a holiday he hadn’t been told about, that he just wasn’t supposed to be there. It felt like he was trespassing, even if it was his own office. The halls were too quiet, way too still. It looked cold, dead, empty. Quackity still didn’t know why, what was wrong, went home that night to an equally empty house that didn’t give him the same vibes, didn’t skeeve him out as much. What was so wrong with his office?

-

Schlatt hated this, being this, having to live like this. He wished he could’ve been born an alpha, even a beta, anything but this. It was such a humiliating existence, shrouded in secrecy, constant paranoia haunting him throughout his years on this earth. Schlatt wished he could fix it, wish there was surgery, spells, anything. No, of course not; couldn’t give him a way out, could they? He just had to suffer like this, burning, stabbing, horrific agony.

He was only three days in and he was ready for this to be over, wanted to die, had collapsed in the middle of his room (nest). His stomach kept cramping, muscles spasming so much that he could see it, could feel it jumping. Tears dripped down his face, side pressed into the ground as he curled up into a ball like that, trying to relieve the pressure, trying to ignore the feeling of slick seeping down into the layer of blankets that coated his room.

It had taken forever to paper the room with blankets, shirts, pants, until it was barely recognizable as the room it had been before, covered in soft, fluffy things that made Schlatt preen, pleased with his efforts, that he’d made such a good nest, such a good den for himself (He wished he had a mate to share it with). He nuzzled his face into the bedding, whimpering as it scraped over his sensitive horns, ears, skin, even his hair. Everything felt like someone had turned it up to 11, too bright, too loud, too much.

Schlatt closed his eyes, opened them again, the force of keeping them closed, keeping them open, both took too much effort. Jesus fucking Christ, he hated this. Schlatt forced himself to get up, legs trembling, to try to make it to the vague lump that was his bed, tail drooping, joints aching. It took almost an entire minute, arms giving out, legs trembling. He sank down into the fabrics, face buried in them, too tired to pull some over him, just lying there.

-

It hit Quackity just as he was about to leave on Wednesday, jacket slung over his arm. Schlatt. Schlatt was what was off about the office; there was no Schlatt. No sign of him; no smoke, no alcohol, no vomit, no yelling, no crashing. Why did that bother him so much? Usually, he tried to avoid Schlatt during work, tried to forget about their interactions outside of it (Schlatt appearing at two in the morning, drunk out of his mind, fucking Quackity stupid, pretending nothing had happened the next day).

Where could Schlatt be? Quackity put his jacket back on the hook, stepped back, eyes searching, more intently now that he had a target, something to look for. No, no Schlatt. Nothing even remotely Schlatt-related. Quackity frowned, setting the rest of his stuff back down on his desk, he’d have to find him. If Schlatt hadn’t shown up to work in three whole days, something bad had to have happened to him. The thought made Quackity’s gut twist, ache, made his face pinch up in concern.

He searched the halls, growing progressively more worried the more the lack of Schlatt sank in. No empty glasses, bottles. No ashtrays. No cigarette butts. Nothing; Quackity hadn’t even realized he’d noticed those things, but their disappearance had weighed so heavily on his subconscious, ruined three days of his life. When had Schlatt become so important to him, so integral to his daily life? Quackity filed that thought away for later, more concerned with finding Schlatt (making sure he was okay, Quackity couldn’t live without him).

Schlatt wasn’t in the office; Quackity searched everywhere, in places that Schlatt wouldn’t even fit, didn’t leave an inch of the office untouched, hunting for him. If he wasn’t there, that meant he had to be in his room. Technically, Quackity wasn’t allowed in Schlatt’s room, but that was irrelevant right now. He had to locate Schlatt, make sure he wasn’t hurt. Quackity wasn’t sure why that was so important, but he couldn’t even consider leaving without looking for him.

He marched upstairs, steps purposeful, sped down the hallway to Schlatt’s door. Quackity didn’t even hesitate before turning the doorknob. It didn’t open, though it wasn’t locked. Was there something inside, holding it shut, keeping it closed? Quackity slid a foot back, supporting himself, squared his shoulders. Okay. He was doing this. He was going to break down his boss’s door. Nothing weird about that.

Quackity lurched forward, twisting the knob, shoulder connecting painfully with the door. It fell away, scraping against the ground. He blinked. What the..? The room was covered, floor to ceiling, floor and ceiling, in blankets, shirts, bathrobes, pants, underwear, even socks. It was impressive, if a bit weird. The door had scraped up the blankets, and something about that made Quackity feel guilty. Someone had clearly put a lot of effort into this, only for him to come in and ruin it all.

“Schlatt?” He cleared his throat, stepped in, closed the door. He couldn’t see Schlatt, but that was the least of his concerns. It smelled… weird. Good weird, but still weird. Bittersweet, like raspberries, so thick that it made his nose burn, eyes water. What the fuck? Quackity stepped further into the room, toeing the blanket back into place. He looked around, trying to find Schlatt.

“Schlatt?” He raised his voice louder, walking to the center of the room. Where was he?

“Quackity..? What the… what’re you doin’ here?” Quackity spun around, heart pounding. Fuck. He was in so much trouble, wasn’t he?

Or not.

Quackity… wasn’t sure what to make of it. Schlatt was sprawled out on a veritable mountain of blankets, face down. Quackity’s eyes flicked over him, drinking in soft, pale thighs, plush ass, hole red and loose, puffy, slick leaking everywhere, tail flicking lazily, the expanse of his back, messy brown hair, shiny horns. Fuck. He swallowed, throat clicking, forced himself to stare at the back of Schlatt’s head. Fuck.

“Sorry, sir, y-you weren’t showing up to work, so I thought I’d…” Quackity trailed off, eyes wandering again. Jesus Christ, was Schlatt an omega? How? He’d… he’d fucked Quackity. Looked like he’d enjoyed it. Had he been… what, imagining Quackity was him, imagining they’d switched places or something? It didn’t make any sense. How could he have hid it for so long? Omegas went into heat every month, for 3-7 days. How was he only just noticing?

“Wha’?” Schlatt moved his head to the side, letting Quackity see how red it was, how shiny his eyes were, red and puffy from crying. Oh. If Schlatt had been dealing with this by himself for three days… it had to be so painful, agonizing, horrible. Quackity’s heart dropped when he saw the haze of pain in Schlatt’s eyes, the way just turning his head seemed like it took all his energy, realized how miserable Schlatt had to be.

Quackity himself was a beta, not unusual, but he’d always been a bottom. Short, not particularly muscular, he wasn’t what people pictured when they heard the word ‘top’. Schlatt was tall, imposing, but right now… he looked so soft. Maybe because Quackity had never let himself look at Schlatt more than necessary, always kept his eyes on his face, closed, looking away. There was nothing threatening about Schlatt, eyes half-lidded, needy, blurry with unshed tears.

-

What the actual _fuck_ was Quackity doing here? Who decided Schlatt needed to suffer like this? The sight of a potential mate just made his heat worse, gushing slick, body screaming at him to beg ( _please, mate, fuck me, fill me, breed me, I love you, please, I need you_ -). His head felt hot and heavy, swam with thoughts of Quackity fucking him, filling him, pressed over his back, slick with sweat, moaning in Schlatt’s ear. He shut his eyes, tried to chase the images away, to restrain himself, but he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Quack- _please_ , help me, I need you. Q, please, _pleas_ , I ne-” He would’ve kept begging, voice high and desperate, almost a whine, but then he heard rustling, cursing, then there was a chest pressed against his back, an arm sliding beneath his stomach, pulling him up. The feeling of skin against his was so soothing, euphoric, paradisaical. Schlatt needed more, but he couldn’t move, weak in Quackity’s arms.

“Shh, sh, it’s okay.” He hauled Schlatt up, nudging his knees beneath his hips, smoothing a hand over his back, admiring him. Schlatt’s hands fisted in the blankets, knuckles white. Quackity leaned forward, so he was draped over Schlatt’s back, pressed a kiss to his shoulder-blade. Schlatt’s entire body was covered in sweat, shiny, wet. Quackity’s tongue darted out, licking a stripe over his skin as he reached a hand between Schlatt’s legs, collecting slick from his legs. God, he was so wet.

“Schlatt?” Quackity murmured, spreading the wetness over his fingers, spreading them to admire the strings of slick that stretched between them, thick, snapped. Curious, Quackity stuck them into his mouth, wanting to taste him. Schlatt whined, confused, giving up on any dignity he’d had in favor of pushing his hips back, arching his back, silently begging to be fucked.

“Wait. Schlatt, I want to try something.” Well, if he was going to do this, he was going to have fun with it. He guided Schlatt up onto shaky legs, hand on his hips and waist to support him. God, he was so wrecked, covered in a sheen of sweat, slick covering his thighs, rubbing into his shins. His cock was an angry red, neglected. Had Schlatt not even tried to get off? Why not? Didn’t matter right now, though, all that mattered was that he fixed it.

Quackity laid back into the nest (Schlatt had made a nest; made a nest for him, hopefully?), guiding Schlatt forward, past his hardening dick, over his chest, until his hips hovered over Quackity’s face. Schlatt made a noise, somewhere between a yelp and a grunt, when he realized what Quackity was trying to do. No way. No fucking way. And yet, Quackity tugged at his hips, trying to get him to lower himself down.

“C’mon, sit on my face. It’ll feel good, I promise.” Quackity murmured, tongue darting out to catch the rush of slick that followed his words. Schlatt’s thighs trembled around Quackity’s head, his shoulders, trying to convince himself that this was okay, this wasn’t humiliating. He took too long. Quackity made an impatient noise, lifting his head up enough that he could lick a long, fat stripe over his hole. Schlatt’s hips jerked, a moan falling from his lips. Fuck.

“C’mon, Schlatt. Be good for me, baby.” That did it. Schlatt hesitantly let himself relax into Quackity’s hold, the feeling of his tongue against him making his face burn. God, this was embarrassing. Didn’t matter, though, because Quackity gripped his hips, focing his hips down, grinding against his face, meeting his tongue. Schlatt moaned, hand coming down to grip Quackity’s hair, the other falling to the sheets beside him, trying to keep himself up.

Fuck. Quackity pushed his tongue against his hole, dipped it in, slurping lewdly. Schlatt rocked his hips, hesitant, eyes closing as he tried to ignore how ridiculous this was. He was riding his vice presidents face, this was just weird. But it felt _so_ fucking good, he couldn’t deny that, movements getting more confident when Quackity moaned, encouraging, hands moving Schlatt faster, harder, one hand leaving his hip so he could slip a finger into Schlatt beside his tongue, letting more slick rush out.

It sounded filthy, wet, the sounds of Quackity drinking him down, fingers scissoring against his insides, nose brushing Schlatt’s cock. It made Schlatt want to curl in on himself, die of embarrassment, but he couldn’t do that. Quackity’s mouth was too good for Schlatt to even consider stopping, to think about. He just had to feel, had to move, had to take. Schlatt rolled his hips down faster, chasing Quackity’s tongue, his fingers, his _mouth_. It wasn’t enough; he needed more, needed to be filled. This was amazing, but it wasn’t enough. His stomach still ached, his skin still burned, his head still hurt. Schlatt whimpered, fingers twisting in Quackity’s hair, trying to get him to… what, pull off? Understand? He didn’t know, just knew he needed something and Quackity could give it to him.

Quackity hummed, spread his fingers and slipping his tongue between them, laving over Schlatt’s walls. The vibrations made Schlatt cry out, hips stuttering against Quackity’s face, collapsing forward onto the sheets. His thighs clamped down around Quackity’s head, squeezing. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about it, mind hazy with pleasure as he sobbed, tried to get more, please, he needed it, _please_. Quackity’s movements only grew more enthused, licking into Schlatt like he was dying of thirst, like Schlatt tasted that good. He tried, but Schlatt’s thighs didn’t release, didn’t pull up, smothering him.

Hands pulled at Schlatt’s hips, trying to get him off, Quackity trying to say something, the tremors really not helping, just made Schlatt’s thighs quake, trying to get off, to let him breathe. Schlatt succeeded after a moment, rolling off of Quackity, falling down beside him. Quackity panted beside him, trying to catch his breath. Schlatt tried to let him recover, but he was just- he _needed_ to be fucked. There was no pleasant way of putting it; he just couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t take any more deprivation.

“Alright, calm down.” Quackity sighed, sitting up. He got onto his knees again, pulling Schlatt’s hips up, knees beneath him (So he was presenting, fuck, like a bitch in heat). He pressed two fingers into Schlatt, spreading them, curling them against his walls. There was no need for it, but it made Schlatt moan, hands twisting into the sheets again as Quackity slipped a third finger into him, scissoring them one last time before pulling them out again, wrapping his wet fingers around his own dick, jerking himself off with short, fast movements. Quackity moaned, clean hand groping at Schlatt’s hip, his ass, his thighs. God, he was beautiful, so pretty, such a gorgeous omega.

He didn’t make Schlatt wait any longer than needed, lining the head of his cock up with Schlatt’s hole, using his grip on Schlatt’s hip to pull him back. Quackity watched in awe as Schlatt swallowed him whole, clenched around him, whined, pushed back. He pushed the rest of the way in with a grunt, hips pressed flush against Schlatt’s, grinding softly against him, letting him get used to the feeling. Schlatt brought his arms forward so he could hide his face in them, skin soaked in tears. Fuck, it felt so _good_.

“Schlatt? You okay?” Quackity rubbed his clean hand over Schlatt’s thigh, dirty one tugging curiously at his tail. Schlatt cried out, tightening around him, rolled his hips back. He was basically fucking himself on Quackity’s cock, which wasn’t what he wanted. He needed to be fucked, bred, didn’t need some fucking scratching post to rub up against. Just fucking _move_ already.

Quackity took the hint, pulling back until only the tip remained inside, still playing with Schlatt’s tail as he thrust back in, snapping his hips forward. Schlatt moaned, encouraging, met Quackity’s thrust eagerly. He did it again, groaning softly. Schlatt was so hot inside, so tight, slick everywhere, smearing over his thighs, squirting out of him with every thrust. Schlatt’s moans grew higher, hips moving faster, trying to get Quackity to fuck him, harder, faster, better.

He babbled out, pleading, hoping that Quackity understood, read the way he pushed back, heard his needs. His prayers were answered; Quackity released his tail, gripped Schlatt’s hips hard, fingers digging into the squishy flesh, using it for leverage so he could slam forward, thrust shoving Schlatt up the bed, shouting, crying, clawing at the fabrics. Quackity kept it up, hard, fast, the slide of his cock inside him, filling him up so well, pressing into his prostate, fucking him so good that Schlat’s toes curled, not even attempting to move, just laying there, letting Quackity take him, use him, breed him.

God, he loved that. Loved Quackity, tried to moan his name, but his mind was melting, thoughts slurred and incoherent, fucked stupid. Pleasure rippled through him, waves of flame, heat making everything feel so much better, so much more intense, the brush of his tail against Quackity’s stomach enough to make him cry, hips slapping against his enough to make him moan. The sounds of it were amazing, obscenely wet, loud. Schlatt’s moans were so high, so loud, it made his entire body flush, head burrowing into the sheets as he tried to forget about it.

He couldn’t. It was Quackity; Quackity’s hands digging into his hips, Quackity’s moans echoing in his ears, Quackity’s cock filling him up, fucking into him, wet and sloppy. Schlatt couldn’t try to pretend that he wasn’t acting like a bitch in heat because he _was_ a bitch in heat, wet, loose, needy, dirty. Such a fucking slut. The thought made him whimper, tighten around Quackity’s cock. He didn’t like that. He wasn’t a slut.

Quackity leaned forward again, stretching himself as far as he could go, cock pressed fully into Schlatt, making him keen. He couldn’t quite reach Schlatt’s ear, but just the feeling of him covering Schlatt, making him feel surrounded, protected. Quackity couldn’t pull out very far, couldn’t move very fast, but he still made it count. Only pulling out an inch or two, every thrust rattled Schlatt, made him moan, short, breathy little noises that really didn’t help his ego.

“Schlatt?” He breathed, grinding the head of his cock against Schlatt’s prostate, making his vision white out, blood rushing in his ears so loud he couldn’t hear what Quackity said next, sobbing. Fuck, that felt so fucking good. Schlatt groaned, satisfied, fulfilled, fucked. There. He was being useful. He was being bred. The pain in his stomach, in his head, melted away. The heat was still there, but it was subdued, allowing for the thrill of finally getting fucked to take center stage.

“What?” His voice was hoarse, but at least he could speak. His head was still muddled, but he was more present. His limbs still shook, weak, but his mind was returning.

“What’s wrong?” Quackity stopped, still inside him, pressed flush against him. He couldn’t rest his chin on Schlatt’s back, so he tilted his head, pressing his cheek against him. Schlatt bit back a whimper, remembering that no, he shouldn’t be acting all needy. He was a president. Schlatt couldn’t be going around acting all submissive. What was he supposed to say, though? Quackity had already seen him like that, had accepted him.

“I-I…” He couldn’t answer, mind not comprehending it as Quackity shifted, jostling his dick. Fuck. His eyes slid shut, head coming of the sheets, opening his eys again. His nest. Quackity was in his nest (mating him, Quackity’s his mate, breeding him, loving him). “I’m not supposed to- to be…” God, this was stupid. Schlatt gave up, rising up onto his elbows a bit. Okay.

“Supposed to be what? An omega?” Quackity pulled out. His voice was low, deeper than usual, scratchy. “What’s wrong with that?” He thrust back in, making Schlatt choke on his words, mouth dropping open in a moan. Fuck, that just wasn’t fair. More slick ran down his thighs, heat pooling in his gut like lava, burning; ecstasy, euphoria.

“You’re such a good omega, though.” Fuck, he couldn’t just _say that_. Warmth rose in Schlatt’s chest against his will, proud at being a good omega for his mate, for Quackity. He whined, clenching down on Quackity, moving his hips back. God, he needed more, was so wet for him, needed it.

“So tight, so pretty, so wet for me.” Quackity cooed. He rose again, speeding his thrusts, hips snapping forward into Schlatt, making him wail. Fuck, fuck, he needed this, needed Quackity, needed his cock, needed to be filled like this. It was so satisfying, soothing, perfect, burning, intense, so fucking _good_ that he just couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but lavish in the sensations, in the waves of pleasure zipping over his skin, the achy overwhelming feeling of being fucked like this.

“So pretty, so good for me,” God, why did he have to speak? His words wound through Schlatt’s thoughts, taking them over. Schlatt knew it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be, but it was so nice to hear that, Quackity’s voice so genuine, so sweet. He let himself imagine, for a second, that it was true, that this was real, that Quackity loved him, was his mate, wasn’t just fucking him because he’d asked.

God, that would be amazing. Meaning behind those words, behind his thrusts, behind the way his hands held Schlatt like he never wanted to let him go. He let himself dream, let himself believe it, just for a second, sinking into the rhythm, pushing back to meet Quackity’s cock with a satisfied moan, so full, split open, stretched so wide. He loved it, loved him. Fuck, he did. Loved Quackity.

Tears welled up in Schlatt’s eyes even as he groaned, even as he was fucked so well, because he really loved Quackity, loved him more than this. Listened to his moans, his rushed praises, breathless, loved the way he angled his hips to hit Schlatt’s sweet spot, make him scream, loved the way he’d stop every so often, moving his hips in delicate circles against his prostate as he rubbed Schlatt’s hips, silently apologizing for the bruises, for the way his nails bit at his skin.

God, he wished he could see him. Wished he could see how he blushed, how his face screwed up in pleasure, mouth open, moaning Schlatt’s name like that, so soft, so proud, so sweet. Wished he could make out his words, drown in those beautiful reassurances, drown in the pleasure of this hot, all-consuming, perfection. He sobbed, fuck, it was heavenly. Schlatt couldn’t even begin to describe just how fucking _perfect_ it was.

Fuck.

“Quacki-ity, fuck, please, touch me, I-I need it, please, _fuck_ -” He begged, couldn’t move his arms enough to jack himself off, but he just needed a little more, just something to push him over the edge. Desperation tinted his thoughts when Quackity didn’t, just thrust harder, faster, pulling Schlatt back to meet him. But not touching his dick. Did he expect Schlatt to cum untouched? He couldn’t do that, hadn’t done so in years. Schlatt didn’t even know if that was possible anymore.

“C’mon, Schlatt. Cum for me, just l-like this, _fuck_ , I know you can b-be a good omega for m-me, right?” Quackity stuttered. Schlatt clenched around his cock, whimpering at the flood of sensation, spreading out from where he met Quackity, burning though him, seeping into his blood, his very soul. He could be a good omega. Good omega. Good for Quackity, _fuck_.

He pressed his face into the blankets, muffling his hoarse scream as he came, body spasming, twitching, muscles spasming around Quackity, as he sobbed into his nest, tears soaking it through, hole trying to milk Quackity’s cock, make him cum, fill him up, breed him, please him. Schlatt needed him to, needed the validation, needed the emotional reward of knowing he’d made Quackity cum, knowing he’d been so good.

Quackity thrust into a few times, making Schlatt sob harder, before pulling out and cumming all over Schlatt’s thighs, his back, his ass. Schlatt felt so cold, hollow inside. It felt like Quackity had ripped something out of him, leaving a horrible gaping emptiness in his chest. Quackity rolled him onto his back, sighing out, but Schlatt just… he couldn’t. He tried not to let it show on his face, but that was a lost cause. Schlatt was still coming down, heat still wracking his body; he didn’t have that kind of control right now.

“Schlatt? Quackity frowned, grabbing one of the shirts he’d woven into his nest, using it to wipe the cum off of his thighs, off of his stomach. God, just twist the knife, why don’t you? Schlatt knew he didn’t mean it, knew this was just him being overly emotional, but he just couldn’t help it. Fresh tears spilled from his eyes, and the concern on Quackity’s face turned to panic as he crowded in close, wrapping his arms around Schlatt, laying on his chest.

“Schlatt? Schlatt, what’s wrong? Tell me. Please.” Quackity mumbled into his neck, squeezing Schlatt tight, hugging him. Schlatt sniffed, tried to force the tears to stop. God, what was he doing?

Whatever.

He’d been keeping it quiet for months now. Schlatt just couldn’t stay silent any longer, couldn’t lie to Quackity anymore. God, so overdramatic, but it physically hurt him to keep his mouth shut for this long, to pretend that he didn’t love Quackity more than life itself. He blinked the tears away, collecting himself, steeling himself for the rejection that was coming. This was the worst possible time to do this, but it just…. he couldn’t drag it out any longer.

“I love you.” Schlatt whispered, so quietly that he almost hoped Quackity didn’t hear him. But he could feel him tense on top of him, hear his intake of breath. Dread filled Schlatt as he waited for Quackity’s reaction. Regret, what the fuck? He should have just let it be, shut up, why the fuck did he think this was a good idea. Schlatt cursed himself silently as he shrank back into his nest, trying to hide, escape. He couldn’t take Quackity’s anger, his disgust, it would destroy him.

“I love you, too.” Quackity’s voice was just as soft, and he didn’t wait for Schlatt to react. He just leaned up, slipped a hand into his hair, and kissed him.

Fuck, how hadn’t they kissed yet? Schlatt could taste the remnants of himself on Quackity’s tongue, faint, overpowered by Quackity. It wasn’t chaste, wasn’t clean. It was desperate, packed full of emotions, repressed love, all the time Schlatt had spent drinking himself into a stupor to give himself the courage to approach Quackity, chickening out and fucking him at the last second, all the time he spent trying to ignore him, all the time he’d spent fantasizing about this moment. Hours alone in his office, dreaming of the day he’d get his shit together and ask Quackity out, or just kiss him, just _anything_.

Quackity pulled back after a moment, panting, dropping his head to Schlatt’s shoulder. Schlatt’s lips sparked, his brain trying to catch up, to comprehend what Quackity had just told him. ‘I love you, too’. Giddiness rose in Schlatt, something colorful and light, like butterflies, but so much sweeter. Sugar, but without the downside, not yet. Quackity grabbed his hand, laced their fingers together as they laid there, embracing each other.

“We need to clean up.” Quackity said, raising his head again. Yeah, that sounded about right. Schlatt moved, winced. Everything was sore, his entire body ached, but it was a pleasant one, a reminder. The pain was what he’d been given, a gift, remnants of their time together. Or rather, the beginning of their time together; this wasn’t just a one night stand, or Quackity was just terrible at this. Confessing mutual love wasn’t usually what one did during a one-and-done fuck.

Oh well. He’d take what he could get. A smile spread across his case as Quackity helped him up, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. God, his legs hurt. Walking was torturous, but he just focused on Quackity’s arm around his waist, the concern on his face as he led Schlatt to the bathroom, the door being the only thing not smothered by blankets.

Quackity opened it, flicked the lights on. He held Schlatt limp into the bathroom, gently settling him on the toilet, hissing apologies with every whimper Schlatt let out. Fuck, that was so cute. Adorable, even, the nervousness in Quackity’s eyes as he turned the faucet on, setting it to high before turning back to Schlatt, not knowing what else to do. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t cuddle him.

Schlatt rolled his eyes, grabbing his arm and pulling him down to kiss him again, humming. That would never get old. The feeling of Quackity’s lips against his, tongues sliding together, the soft warmth of it. The heated franticness had passed, leaving pleasant sparks behind, the lava cooling into obsidian, unbreakable and cool, soothing. Perfection.

They made out until the tub filled, steam rolling around them. Schlatt just felt gross now, slick drying and cracking on his legs, remnants of cum getting all crusty. Disgusting. Quackity helped him into the tub, holding him up as he slowly sank in, hissing at the scalding water, stinging, too hot. Whatever. He didn’t care, because Quackity slid in behind him, even if Schlatt had to slouch down, snorting at how ridiculous this had to look.

It was quiet, Quackity occasionally pressing a fleeting kiss to Schlatt’s neck, gently cleaning all the sweat, tears, and grime off of him. Schlatt relaxed into it, sleepy. Just let Quackity take care of him like that, go limp, his mate would take good care of him. Fuck, that thought didn’t help his tiredness. He knew he couldn’t go to sleep; Quackity wasn’t strong enough to carry Schlatt, especially not when he was just dead weight.

“Schlatt?” Right. Schlatt had to get up. He bit back his whimpers, muscles screaming as he stood up, leaning heavily on the shower wall, grabbing the towel from Quackity. Okay. He grabbed Quackity’s hand again, tugging him out of the bathroom. They couldn’t sleep in the bed now, but the point of a nest was that the entire thing was a bed, a den, so he just found a comfortable corner. Quackity didn’t protest when he tugged him down.

Quackity laid down behind him, slinging an arm over his waist so they were spooning, face tucked into Schlatt’s neck. Schlatt sighed, eyes fluttering closed, resting his hand over Quackity’s. Perfection. He relaxed, sinking into the blankets, the mashup of clothes, the nest that he didn’t have to sleep in alone tonight. Never again, because Quackity was here. Quackity loved him.

//BETAREAD: oml, we love soft schlatt, yes 👍

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I got a question. Cuz my ego was really boosted today. How old do you guys think I am?? A weird question, yes, but I don't think I've ever had anybody get it right and I'm wondering if you can tell based on my writing.


End file.
